a/n: After seeing Chase's furious state at the end of Finding Judas, I bounced around the idea of what happened if he had to go burn off the rage in the Taekwando scenario again. I came up with a strange idea involving Wilson and this time not showing the scene through songfic. Hopefully it works for a chapter two on this one, because it didn't fit on its own.
Wilson's mind weighed heavy by the time he had finished with Tritter. The thoughts and feelings just tumbling inside would be hard for any person to sort out clearly. He felt like his act was correct yet demoralizing, just yet unfair, right yet so very wrong. In other words, he had no reason to believe he wasn't doing the right thing, but he wasn't sure he was.
That's why he was surprised as he was pulling out of the parking garage that his thoughts were actually dominated by Chase instead of House. In the end maybe Chase was the ultimate catalyst for his betrayal? The conversation in the lounge was still very fresh in his mind. It wasn't the words that bothered him. It was the fiery look masking the young doctor's eyes; the bitter edge that laced his disgruntled words; the way he made that sandwich. Each hard and sharp stroke of the knife from his shaking hand indicated he was using everything he had to quell the intense burning within. His actions could be described from a clinical view as borderline passive-aggressive. He had never seen Chase that close to the edge before and he had seen House do some really rotten things to him without even a remote reaction. Wilson was actually concerned that holding in all that rage would result in an explosion that would lead to him hurting others or himself.
Strangely enough, Wilson broke out of his thought when he saw Chase walking along the sidewalk. The aggressive and quick strides in his step indicated that he was still steaming and his eyes were stubbornly fixed forward as if he were on a single focused mission. Wilson had to admit curiosity over what was running through the blond doctor's mind. He was going to stop and offer him a ride, but just as he resolved to do so Chase turned and entered a building.
Wilson pulled over and parked his vehicle. He sat for a few seconds questioning what he was considering. He usually didn't pry. That was House's job. If House was with him though, they would follow. He convinced himself his concern would justify his actions should he be caught. Wilson got out of the car and walked into the building only to notice there were only two tenants. An ob/gyn and a marital arts studio. The educated guess was that Chase didn't need an ob/gyn.
The studio could be seen easily through the hallway by a large window wall. It contained a large open room where a few people in a variety of ages were warming up for their turn with the instructors. He scanned the room looking for Chase and didn't see him. Maybe Chase was seeing an ob/gyn. As he was about to give up, he saw Chase emerge from the locker room, all dressed and prepared for his session. He was a bit thrown back to see him in all white complete with protective padding. The helmet strap mostly covered the fresh bruise he was now sporting on his jaw.
Wilson hid around the corner so he could watch and not be seen. Chase would have to look very hard to spot him, and judging by his distracted demeanor that was not likely.
Chase had the same intense look of ire in his eyes and face that he had when talking with Wilson earlier. He had seemed pretty edgy the last few days anyway judging from all his sarcastic comments. The gossipy nurses were all taken back to hear such things from the usually quiet doctor. They didn't doubt he thought those things, but he never said them. The punch had to deliver him to a boiling point overtop the steam that had already been rising.
Chase took his place over at a preparation mat where others were getting ready through meditation. He sat down, took a cross legged position and tried desperately to turn his mind off to the world and focus. Every thirty seconds or so he would shake his head and try again. After five minutes he was never able to properly focus, all while the internal blaze continued to fan further. Wilson saw it in the short breaths, the scowling face and the clenched fists. His face told the story every time he broke concentration. Wilson imagined Chase's thoughts were likely fixed instead on all his past disappointments.
He could easily tell what was happening to Chase. Being successful at meditation meant achieving a successful peace of mind. Such success hinged on self control and it was apparent Chase had none. Wilson went through in his mind the four types of rage; survival, impotent, attachment, and shame. Chase had probably been fighting three of those his entire life. Today, they all likely emerged into one large storm just from House's punch. He had seen people kill or maim with lesser types of rage.
A different instructor than the ones working with the others came over to Chase gesturing that it was his turn. This man was wearing a black belt with gold stripes. Wilson knew the man was a master. Chase had a much lower ranking judging by the pale color of his belt. What was he doing getting in the ring with someone so skilled? Was taking a beating the only way he would deal with such issues?
The two retreated to a different mat in the far corner of the studio. Wilson felt comfortable moving closer since he would now be harder to spot. The two sparring men bowed out of complete respect, thus signaling the beginning of their match. As soon as the master slightly flinched, Wilson witnessed something he never expected to see. Chase instantly lunged forward with a furious combination of punches and kicks while the master threw up his arms and legs in pure defense. The look on the master's face seemed surprised that such an attack came so quickly, but he was prepared nonetheless. Something about the way they moved back and forth told Wilson that they had done this many times before.
Wilson's eyebrows raised in amusement at first as he thought he was watching a Jackie Chan film. Where the hell did Chase learn to fight like that? Why wasn't he a black belt? His skill easily matched his counterpart. Every motion and delivery from Chase was fraught with violent intensity. He looked completely possessed and had an attack instinct that was close to primal. Wilson had seen that behavior in both trauma patients and violent criminals. Chase looked like his mind was completely disconnected with his body. Adrenaline was the only thing doing the work.
The bell rang, but Chase didn't stop. It took several attempts from the master to get him to snap out of it, but he eventually did get his attention and Chase stopped. Wilson could see through the glass that the master asked if he was okay. Chase didn't respond and only stared forward with burning eyes.
They took a couple of minutes rest and went again. As before, Chase didn't hold back and even worked in a few new spins and moves. He surprised the master with a spinning kick that knocked him to the ground. The master got up slowly, hoping that would give his opponent time to gain composure. That didn't seem to happen as Chase once again moved at his frenzied pace.
The second bell rang and Chase again wouldn't stop. This time, the master spun around and delivered a kicking strike to Chase's midsection knocking him flat on his back. That motion got Chase's attention, but didn't seem to soothe any of the turbulent emotion that was still in its incensed release. He laid on the ground taking in short and sharp breaths while his jaw was clenched and teeth gritted. He spent the entire break eyeing the man who was about to pay for his knock down blow.
Chase was still fuming when the person in charge of the bell looked at the master with hesitation before proceeding, ringing it only after she got the assuring nod. Chase slowly got up and yet again burst into a furious combination, but the master starting retaliating with his own moves as well. Chase wouldn't back down from his aggression and any thoughts of defense by the master were gone. Now this fight was about control.
Wilson was wrong before. This was the true Jackie Chan moment. The two were going at such a dizzying rate and moving across the floor so fast that the occupants of the entire studio stopped what they were doing and came over to watch. Every face in the room seemed more shocked by such an infuriated display of skill and survival than thrilled. Both men were clearly capable of seriously harming the other and could do so in a snap. Everyone held their breaths realizing the outcome for one of them might not be pretty.
The two went long beyond the time allowed and the intensity of the action didn't quell. Finally, one of the instructors got a little too worried and rang the bell again. Chase didn't back off as many of his kicks and punches were now delivered by yells and grunts. The master knew he had to stop him somehow and didn't let up either. The other instructor jumped in behind and Chase first tried to fight the two men. He was quickly brought back to reality when he was distracted by the other instructor with a punch from behind. He turned around to counter and the master dropped kicked him with a direct blow to the shoulder. Chase fell violently forward and hit his head hard as he landed the padded mat.
A stunned Chase lay on the mat, still disoriented, but no longer mad with rage. If anything, his expression was now one of shame. For a minute he was motionless except for his blinking eyes, which were trying to gain orientation. They rolled him over and starting asking simple questions. Chase was unable to respond even though he was staring right at them like he understood what was being said. Wilson by this time had stepped into the studio and heard the other instructor ask, "Should we get him medical attention?" While the master replied to give Chase another minute, Wilson didn't want to take any chances. The situation could be very serious here.
Wilson burst onto the mat. "My name is Dr. James Wilson. I work with him. I can help." Wilson knelt down and looked at Chase, whose confusion was even greater now that Wilson was there. Wilson removed the padded helmet and started to check Chase's eyes as the master stared at the bruise on the jaw line. "Was he in a fight?" he asked with deep concern. Now he understood what set his student off. "He didn't fight back, did he?"
"No, he didn't. His boss hit him hard after a disagreement over a case." Wilson ran a finger in front of Chase's eyes to make sure he wasn't suffering from a head injury. When he was able to follow the finger without problems, Wilson had the men help Chase up to his feet. He swayed for a few seconds then gained his footing. "Chase, can you come with me to the locker room?" Chase nodded and even though he was still in a daze he silently followed Wilson and the master into the locker room.
Wilson pulled back into his psych training as a still stunned Chase sat down on the bench. "Breathe, deep breaths. As you breathe in, remember that you are only experiencing feelings. You don't need to act out anymore."
"Robert, find your inner peace. Channel your energy." The master added.
Chase started taking in deep breaths and slowly began to regain some of his control. Each calming word uttered by Wilson and the master brought him back to reality. "Good Chase, just relax."
Wilson took the master aside, grabbing his temples with his left hand in the process. He was still having a hard time grasping what was going on here. "Is he always like this?"
"No," replied the master as his eyes were still fixed on Chase. "If he was punched by someone he respected though that would set him off. If he had fought back, the consequences would have been dire."
"Yeah, I just noticed that. You don't think he's dangerous?"
"No. As long as he only deals with me, he's fine. I'm the only one allowed to spar with him. His skill level is too great and his rage runs deep at times."
Wilson nodded. He had to admit, Chase had the self control to come here immediately. "Thank you. I can handle it from here."
The master took one more long look at Chase to see if there was anything more he could do. He seemed satisfied and turned to leave. "Same time next week Robert?" Chase nodded and the master patted him on the shoulder before he left.
Wilson walked over to Chase and sat down next to him. Chase was now thinking clearly enough to ask the obvious question. "Why are you here Dr. Wilson? How did you find me?"
"I have to confess. I saw you walk in here rather furious while I was driving by. I was concerned."
"Am I that dangerous looking?"
"I was worried after our talk. I had never seen such anger in your eyes before. You were quivering from the ire."
Chase lowered his head while maintaining his calming breaths. "No one ever noticed before."
The two men sat together trying to maintain composure while mulling over in both their heads the undeniable impact of the day's events.
"I don't remember what I was doing." Chase confessed.
"That makes sense. You were in a fit of rage."
"It was like I was watching something from a distance within my own body and helpless to stop it."
"Does this happen often?"
Chase shook his head.
Wilson smiled. "Well, your subconscious can kick some major ass."
Chase finally let himself slip a small smile. "I've been training for years. I should be able to kick ass."
Wilson got up. "Why don't you get dressed? Do you need a ride back to the hospital?"
"No, I walked from home today. It's not too far from here."
"I'll give you a ride home. I insist. You are probably exhausted after all that."
"Yeah, I have to admit, I'm feeling pretty shaky. Thanks."
"I'll be outside waiting." Wilson left Chase alone on the bench, who was by now too physically and emotionally drained to move quickly.
-----------------------
As Wilson pulled up to Chase's apartment complex, he stopped to let him know that something was still troubling his mind.
"Chase, you'll probably be surprised that I know a bit about Taekwando. It is an art that is required to teach physical and mental discipline. You need to be using the art to channel your rage, not release it."
"Most of the time I'm able to do that."
"According to the master, who judging by his stripes is a 4th dan, he is the only one you are allowed to fight. You are too skilled to be hiding behind a yellow belt. You need to channel all your positive and negative energy and elevate yourself to the level of your true skill. You aren't doing this sport or yourself any justice by doing otherwise. You could easily be a 4th dan."
"I'm only exceptional at it when I'm fired up in a rage."
"You aren't allowed to be like that in this sport, or with anything in that matter. Rage is very bad and very damaging. It would be my guess that you got into this sport because you had anger issues. If you truly learned the mental and spiritual discipline, you would avoid what happened today."
"The master thinks I'm doing okay."
"The master doesn't work with you everyday and wonder what will happen next time you don't make it to the studio in time. Face it, you are very dangerous and none of us would be able to stop you."
Chase nodded. Wilson was dead on. He even scared himself today. "Okay, I'll think about it some more. The master and I can have a talk about it next time."
"You need to talk to him soon. There are daily exercises for this sort of thing."
"Dr. Wilson…"
"Chase, I'm trying to be nice about this."
Chase relented. "Okay, I'll call him tomorrow." He then opened the car door. "Thanks for the lift."
"Have a good evening. Try to relax."
"I will."
Wilson watched Chase walk off and felt somewhat relieved that he could finally take his mind off of the young man. Now it was time to go home and fret about House.
a/n: I really have no intention of expanding this story unless circumstances arise to permit it. Anyway, I hope this was a scenario worth a read. As always, thanks for reading.
